


Bad Programming

by Trammel



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Ballet, Brownies, Clint Barton is a good boyfriend, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Love Is for Children, Mentions of Nightmares, Natasha Romanov Is Not A Robot, Sort Of, angsty and sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-02-26 06:56:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13230363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trammel/pseuds/Trammel
Summary: She didn't really care about them implying that she had no feelings. Feelings were inconvenient and often distracting. No, that wasn't the problem. But the idea that she wasn't - wasn't a real person. That hurt, a barb that got through her defenses and burrowed into her skin, piercing her.





	Bad Programming

**Author's Note:**

> My first real Clintasha fic! Didn't post in time for Clintasha advent, but here it is!

Natasha had already had a good workout today, putting the new SHIELD agents through their paces, but she needed to ground herself, and usually to do that she went to her ballet studio at the tower.

She tried to focus on her breathing as she put on her pointe shoes and black tights with a large black sweatshirt. She slowly put her hair up, but avoided her own eyes in the mirror, doing it by memory and feel.

She went out into the studio and started to warm up at the barre, trying to clear her mind of everything but the movements. Her routine. Ingrained in her body and her mind. Hers.

She was angry at herself, she realized; she shouldn't be so rattled by the junior agent's stupid comment. She threw off dozens of barbs every day, so many they didn't even impact her shell anymore, if they ever had.

But that agent's stupid comment had really thrown her.

She moved out onto the floor, using her body to try to send her mind to a different place. Somewhere where she wasn't what they had made her. Where she was something she made herself.

And she managed for a while, losing herself in the music and the movement, focusing her attention on her body and her muscles, finally feeling the good ache of a workout.

About an hour passed when she saw Clint enter the room behind her. She didn't stop her routine, but her eyes met his for a moment in the mirror and she gave him a nod. She hadn't told Jarvis to block the doors, and he knew that meant he could come in.

He was dressed in sweatpants and a sleeveless t-shirt, his usual at home look. He sat on the bench in the corner while she finished up, holding something on his lap. She knew he would wait there patiently, even for hours, until she was ready to talk, or to just sit next to him in silence.

He knew when she came to the dance studio she was trying to connect with the person she'd been; at least the parts that she'd tried to save from the Red Room. That ballet was her way of trying to center herself, when something threw her off.

She finished up her routine, then walked over to him. His hair was still a bit damp from the shower, and her eyes lingered on the line of his neck. She wanted to kiss him there, mark him up. She would do that, later. She didn't want to start things when she was in an unstable frame of mind.

Clint looked up at her, still and calm like he was in his nests, just waiting for her to signal whatever she needed. On his lap was a paper plate holding a chocolate chip brownie, untouched. For her. She let the side of her mouth twitch up slightly, for that.

Natasha sat next to him on the bench, moving her body close to his, arm against arm, thigh against thigh. That warmth that she sought out again and again. They just sat for a while.

"It's - it's stupid." She eventually said.

"Try me. I got a couple of PhD's in stupid," he smiled at her, and she felt warmth flood her heart, though her face stayed calm. She was good at that.

"The new agents. Talking shit about me." She reached up and started undoing her bun, pulling out hairpins one by one and setting them down on the bench next to her. "As I was leaving I heard Samuels say 'Looks like the SHIELD programming wrote over the Red Room's no problem."

She felt something tight in her stomach even as she said it. She didn't really care about them implying that she had no feelings. Feelings were inconvenient and often distracting. No, that wasn't the problem. But the idea that she wasn't - wasn't a person. That hurt, a barb that got through her defences and burrowed into her skin, piercing her.

Natasha ran her hand through her hair, shaking it out, and rolled her shoulders, trying to rid herself of this stupid tension. She felt she could look back at Clint now.

His eyes were clear and open, and she wasn't afraid to look at them.

"Is Samuels still alive?" He half-joked.

She nodded. "Yeah. For now." She let the almost smile come back to her face. "It's stupid. I shouldn't let it bother me anymore."

She had talked to Clint about this, though it was something they hadn't talked about in a long time. Sometimes she felt like she didn't understand exactly what he'd seen in her that led him to make that different call. Because she so strongly knew all the things she didn't want to be, the things she wasn't.

It was just really hard to figure out what she wanted to be. What she was. She wondered if she'd saved enough of herself to fill the void left once she got rid of all the bad programming. Late at night, huddled together in the dark, she'd admitted that to him. And he understood.

"So, I don't remember, did I ever tell you about my girlfriend?" Clint blurted out. She stared at him. His eyes were joking now but he did stumble a bit over "girlfriend." They tended not to say certain things out loud.

She just tilted her head and kept staring at him until he went on.

"She's gorgeous, of course," he gave her a wink, pulling out the cocky Hawkeye he often played. "And, well, she could snap my spine in a second if she chose to. I'm lucky she doesn't want to. Most of the time. Though she does hit me sometimes, but usually only when I've asked her to."

Natasha didn't say anything, but leaned even closer to him, her thigh pressing hard against his. Her eyes strayed to the brownie. It did smell good.

"She doesn't let many people in, but she's let me in. Sometimes. I got to know her pretty well now." His hand was resting on his thigh next to the plate. He moved it just enough to lightly brush her leg.

He did know her, whoever she was. Clint was the one who'd seen her, through all her personas. And wanted to keep her around. Wanted to know her.

"She hates pistachios. Well, I mean, I get that. Who likes pistachios? What kind of weird nut is that? But she loves chocolate." He looked down at the brownie, then back at her.

She gave him a strange look, but was starting to understand what he was doing.

"It took her a ridiculously long time to figure out what her favorite ice cream flavor was - when she was just being herself and not taking on a cover, but when she decided on chocolate, actually, double fudge brownie, I knew we were meant to be."

She slowly reached over and took the plate from him, placing it on her own lap, and just let her face show whatever she was actually feeling.

"She can't cook worth shit, but she makes this tea that kind of blows my mind. And I'm not exactly a tea person. Don't really like it," his voice went on, calm and strangely happy. "She loves the beach, running in the sand. Says it's something about feeling the sand between her toes. Don't know." He shrugged.

She pulled off a corner of the brownie and popped it into her mouth, feeling the chocolate explode on her tongue. Mmm. He did get this part right, really right.

"When it comes to computers, she's the smartest person I know. Even better than Tony." He glanced up at the ceiling. "And I don't even care if JARVIS tells him I said that."

Natasha's eyes widened at that, and she popped another piece of brownie into her mouth.

"When she's stressed out, she likes to watch panda videos. There's this website that shows these videos of baby pandas in China. She subscribed. That's a secret I swore to take to my grave. But, you know, I kinda love panda videos too. Oh, and when she's really relaxed, she snores like a trucker."

At that, she punched him - gently - on the shoulder. Clint gave a small laugh.

"But I don't mind. I actually love it. Because when I can't sleep, uh - " his eyes slipped from hers and roamed the room. "Because I keep seeing blue light behind my eyes, and hearing another voice in my head, I know by that sound that she's with me and she's ok. And that means I must be ok too." He focused on a point across the room, and his voice grew smaller. "Because when I'm lost she always finds me. Always brings me back."

Her right hand moved down to clasp his, their fingers intertwining, and she switched to her left to keep eating.

"She sings these really fucking freaky Russian lullabies that are also weirdly comforting. She doesn't let many people hear her sing, but she has an amazing voice. Kinda like most things she does, she's really good at it. I still think one day I'll convince her to do karaoke. Maybe drunk karaoke."

Natasha let out a chuckle at that, popping a bigger piece of brownie into her mouth.

"You know, sometimes I wonder why she keeps me around. I can be a stupid jerk when I wanna be." His hand squeezed hers tighter. She squeezed back.

They went back to sitting silently while she finished up the brownie. Then she got up, brushing crumbs off herself. She turned to him.

"Ok, Dr. Stupid. What are you making me for dinner?"

"Uh, grilled cheese ok?" Of course he wasn't stupid enough to comment that she'd already had dessert. They both knew that didn't count.

"Perfect. But make extra. You're gonna need your strength. I still have some tension to work out. On you." She met his eyes and smiled now, a real smile.

He smiled back. "Yes, ma'am."

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't done ballet for 20 years so I don't remember much....


End file.
